Deceptions A Novel

by Frayn, Rebecca

• ISBN13: 9781439196397
• ISBN10: 1439196397
• Edition: Reprint
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2011-05-03
• Publisher: Washington Square Press

Summary

A gripping novel about the mysterious disappearance of a twelve year old boy that will have readers guessing the outcome until the very last page.

Author Biography

Rebecca Frayn is a critcally-acclaimed film maker. She is also the author of One Life, which was published by Simon & Schuster UK in 2006. Rebecca is the daughter of Michael Frayn, a highly respected British playwright and author, whose plays have been produced on Broadway. She lives in London with her husband, Andy Harries, a noted television and film producer (whose credits include "The Queen" starring Helen Mirren), and their three children.

Excerpts

Prologue

Ask me why I have never told this story before and I will tell you quite straightforwardly. I’ve always believed one must strive to put painful episodes behind one with the minimum of fuss and bother. In an age obsessed by introspection I may be out of step, but it’s nonetheless a strategy that has served me perfectly well.

Until this morning, when the letter came—one glimpse of that distinctive handwriting enough to conjure her out of the darkness again, tentatively smiling that pearly smile of hers.

More in apprehension than hope, I tore the envelope open. Inside, a birthday card! After all these years of silence, she has sent me a birthday card … I suppose the vagaries of the overseas post must have sabotaged its punctual arrival. On the front of the card was a painting by Constable, while inside she had added nothing but her name. It was only as I was about to throw the envelope away that the newspaper cutting fluttered free. Overcome by foreboding, I hastily secreted it in my pocket, where it has remained ever since. I will read it presently. Of course I will. But for the time being, the possibility that our private misfortune could have excited further publicity is more than I can bear.

Once work is over, I drive to the coast in the hope that the sea will soothe me. But the attic door stands ajar now—forbidden memories clamoring and agitating as if in deliberate defiance of my authority. At the time I considered myself a man more sinned against than sinning. Why then does the view backward suggest a rather more sinister interpretation?

© 2010 Rebecca Frayn